


Only Children. Who Care?

by Mr_Suicidal_Sheep



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: A lot of bad things, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood Loss, Blood and Torture, Broken Bones, Child Abuse, Child Death, Childhood Trauma, Children are Harmed, Damaged Vocal Cords, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disease, Force-Feeding, Forced Eye Contact, Gore, Hurt/No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Isolation, It's bad, M/M, Machines, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Apocalypse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Refusing To Eat., Science Experiments, Supposed Cure, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence, You Have Been Warned, i can't tag, it's sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-17 15:38:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18101450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Suicidal_Sheep/pseuds/Mr_Suicidal_Sheep
Summary: Takes place in a post-apocalyptic world where children are stolen from their families in what remains of their homes out in the Scorched. The Institution is a facility that take these stolen children and sort them. The healthy and intellectual are kept while the non-healthy are desposed of. They are experimented on like guinee pigs and dying like dogs all for the sake of finding a cure for the disease plaguing the world, Rot. Izaya is one of these stolen children. I suck at summaries.





	1. Stolen

Is he asleep? No, he’s awake. On the floor of some kind of vehicle. How did he get there?

The last thing Izaya remembers is his mother, pressing his face into the ragged fabric that covered her chest as if it would conceal him. He remembers gunshots and people screaming loud enough to make his small ears hurt bad enough that he contemplated tearing them off. It was so loud that he couldn’t hear the men surrounding his mother. 

She held him tighter, going against the orders to give him up. His mother was a very brave person, stubborn and defiant. Se had to be, to protect her family from the horrors of their world and the bad people that wanted to take her son away. She was fearless. 

Her fearlessness is what got her killed. A man had ripped him away from his mother’s comforting arms and into an unforgiving hold. She turned feral; punching, kicking, biting, screaming at them to, “GIVE HIM BACK!” and “DON’T TAKE HIM!”. The man shoved her down onto the red sand that covered the Scorched. 

Everything began moving in slow motion. 

The man raised his gun.

His mother gasped from her knees.

The man curled his finger around the trigger mechanism. 

His mother’s eyes, the same striking vermilion as his own, stared at him. Tears ran down her face in rivers, somehow adding to her seemingly endless beauty, a beauty he was already inhareting. She smiled, suddenly looking an awful lot younger, and Izaya felt something wet roll down his slightly chubby cheeks.

BANG!

She collapsed. Her raven hair fanned out behind her head, a stark contrast against the red sand. Blood boiled up and pooled from the gaping hole in her chest and soaked her already filthy clothing. The round swell of her stomach moved ever so slightly. The pair of twins, only a few weeks from entering the world, were slowly suffocating to death. He remembers his mother speaking about them before, how he was going to be a big brother. Izaya would never meet his sisters, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel sad about their death. They were never born, so how could he feel sorrow for them? He shouldn’t feel hurt over his mother’s death either. 

She brought him into this terrible world, she let them be found, she didn’t fight hard enough. She was the one who was supposed to protect him and now, because of her failure, he was going to be taken away. This is all her fault. He hates her.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t hate her. If he did hate her, then why is he crying and reaching for her bleeding corpse. Why is he fighting against the unforgiving hold of the man with all he is worth just to get to her. Because that’s his mom. The person who brought him into the world, fed him, clothed him, taught him, protected him, and loved him for all six years of his life. 

His chest felt as if it was caving in on itself, crushing his tiny heart and lungs. It hurt to breath and 

The man holding him began dragging him away from his dead mother, towards a large vehicle full of other children who were experiencing something similar to what Izaya is. Suddenly, as if by magic(magic isn’t real, neither are fairy tales or places covered in green instead of red), he became too exhausted to fight. His limbs grew weak and his eyelids heavy, sleep calling to him with its siren song to lure him to his own death. He was giving up and...he didn’t care. His mother was gone, his father had died last year from Rot, and he didn’t even know his sisters. He was alone, he had nothing now. 

The man shoved him inside the truck roughly and Izaya didn’t even have the strength to soften the fall with his hands. He laid on the floor of the vehicle, surrounded by other, crying, wailing children. His eyes closed.

This was it, it was over. Everything was over for him. The monsters from his nightmares had finally caught him and they weren’t going to let him go anytime soon. The monsters had taken him and he was as good as dead.


	2. Heat

The truck jerked violently and ripped Izaya was from his thoughts just as violently. Right, now was not the time to be lost in sorrowful memories.

Children were packed into the vehicle so tightly that the raven haired boy could feel every part of his body touching someone else's, feel the ragged breath of another child against his nape. The heat of all the hot bodies pressed together in a poorly ventilated iron box was so terrible that Izaya felt as though his might suffocate to death before he even got to wherever the bad people were taking him. In all honesty, dying now, right here on the smoldering truck, would most likely save him from the cruelty he was sure to suffer though. 

No one in the Scorched knew what happened to the children once they were stolen from their families, though rumors did travel. Some were optimistic and said that they took the children to a sanctuary to give them proper food and medical care. Others, the majority, believed the young were taken for either some kind of experiment or eaten. The taste for human flesh wasn’t as uncommon as it should be. With food of any kind being as scarce as it was and the food that was found was more than likely too rotten to hold any nutritional value, some cultures had developed a more….indescrimitory diet. Rumors aside, the only sure that that everyone in the red desert knew was that once the children were taken, they would never be seen again. 

Everyone around Izaya was sobbing loudly, deafeningly. The girl with red hair next to him was clinging to what looked to be her twin brother, babbling on and on about they were going to die while her sibling stroked her hair in an attempt to calm her. Normally, Izaya would have regarded the pair with wonder, fascinated with their dynamic, but today was not a normal day for the raven. He was scared, confused, and hot.

It felt like they were in that truck for days, slowly baking in the heat. Sweat was getting into Izaya’s eyes, causing them to sting, and his rags clung to his thin body. The cloth he wore on his head that kept the sun’s harsh rays from frying his brain had been, thankfully, knocked off when he was thrown into the vehicle and gave him the smallest bit of relief. His hair was long, longer than any of the other boys in the truck, and filthy. Even with all the tangles, it reached down to the middle of his shoulder blades, giving him quite a girlish appearance. His mother had said it was pointless to care about appearances when you live in a wasteland. Still, Izaya would have liked to have her cut the mats out with one of her knives so it wasn't so heavy. 

After years of insufferable heat, the truck slowed before stopping completely. The giant doors opened and the sun made sure to punish the children for, unwillingly, escaping its clutches with blinding light. Izaya didn't even realize how dark it was in the truck until after black spotted his vision and his eyes watered. When he could see again, the raven boy noticed a tall figure standing in front of them. Clad in red camouflage and armed to the teeth like every other bad person Izaya had seen today. It looked to be a young man with short brown hair and a harden face despite his years.

A cigarette pursed between his lips, smoke blurring into the hazy distance.

“All of you, off the truck and form a line. Quickly”

The man spoke in a deep, gruff voice that caused some children, those who still had tears to spare, to cry more. However, to Izaya, the man’s voice was not entirely cruel and was almost comforting. Like an old, mean looking dog that was actually just a big puppy. As Izaya stared at the man, he felt that his man wasn’t entirely bad, a feeling that hadn’t happened with any of the other men he had seen. He even helped a two year old off the truck instead of leaving the boy to do it himself and getting himself hurt. 

Izaya got out and took in his surroundings. The environment was a little different that what he was use to. There was still the burning sand and the cruel sun, but there was barely anything else. The raven had lived in the city for his short life, jumping from bridge to basement because his mother always said it was too dangerous to stay in one place for more than three days. He was use to crouching under scraps of construction to shield himself while his mother left to try and find something to eat, but...there was nothing like what he was use to here. No crumbling structures, not busted asphalt, no scattered bottles, just a single giant building. With guards posted every yard and twenty foot high electric fences with barbed wire pinwheels resting on top, the place looked like a fortress. So this is where they were being taken?

Once all of the children were unloaded and made to stand perfectly in a line, the brunette man walked the length of the line. His dark eyes lingered on Izaya’s for a second longer than the others and Izaya stared right back. They seemed to connect to each other, both knowing that one was going to keep doing his job, no matter his feelings, while the other was just a lamb to be slaughter upon the altar. 

The man quickly looked away when a blonde girl gathered up the courage to make a run for it. She sprinted across the desert as if her life depended on it and made it to the top of a hill...she collapsed, like Izaya’s mother had, and began rolling down said hill lifelessly. When she had stopped, her limbs were bent in strange, unnatural ways and the man lowered his gun. A beat of silence, all eyes on the corpse while the man sighed softly to himself, as if slightly ashamed at what he had done. He straightened up and marched back to the end of the line, barking out a simple order.

“Walk.”

So they walked and on one else tried to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, so stressed. I have a lot of things I'm working on, so chapters are slow and agonizing. Anyways, I hope you like it. Comments are deeply appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. This is going to be my first attempt at torture and other dark themes. If you haven't noticed already, there are going to be some ideas from The Maze Runner and Divergent in here. Anyways, I'm hard at work on the next chapter and I'll have it out as soon as I possibly can. I am a very slow worker and I have a difficult time sitting down and focusing on something for an extended amount of time, so please be patient with me. Also, please comment. I love reading comments, they keep me motivated and incourage me to write more. Thanks for your time. ~J


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